Covering the Zamboanga crisis.

My first foray into the frontlines in Zamboanga brought me to Brgy Sta. Barbara where I came upon a group of soliders relaxing across the street, their weapons propped up against a wall. I hail one of them and signal that I wanted to cross the street. 

That street was one of the many sniper alleys perpendicular to Veteran's Avenue leading to Lustre street.  A few days back, a soldier got shot trying to cross the same street.

A soldier wearily gets up and grabs a stick with a small vanity mirror attached at one end. He slowly pokes it around the corner and peers at the mirror.

"Clear!", he yells, waving me on.

I start running well before the intersection, my kevlar helmet and 15 pound bulletproof vest making me feel like a lumbering elephant. A few shots from the distance go off, quickly answered by a volley of fire from the government snipers positioned in a building near me.

Whether the fire was directed at me or someone else, mattered little.  It made the hairs at the back of my neck rise.

Sacre bleu, I thought. We were in Zamboanga City for heaven's sake. Not Syria or Iraq.

Back at my hotel room,  I would rip the vanity mirror from my toiletries bag and stick it in one of my vest pockets.  I figured one can never be too careful.

Later that day, we follow an officer to a spot in Sta Barbara where two infantry men were holding the line at the end of Lustre Street.  Both men were lying prone.  One was manning a squad automatic rifle, the other an M-14 sniper rifle.

"Get down.  The enemy is just down the road!", the sniper whispers harshly, not taking his eyes off his scope.

We drop to the ground and crawl to the relative safety of a few concrete bannisters just as the sickening staccato of incoming bullets fill the air. 

The gunner releases a continuous stream of fire from his gun, defeaning us.  More bullets whistle overhead, peppering the trees.  

After a few tense moments I give my team the order to withdraw to a house beside the soldier's position.  

As we belly crawl into the house, we hear enemy fire envelope the soldiers positions. Up to this time, I know not what happened to those soldiers.

I'm quite sure all the journalists covering the crisis have similar experiences.  The close calls, carooming bullets and errant grenades here and there were hazards we all had to face. 

Burdened by our safety gear, and scampering about looking for cover, I realize Philippine media has come a long way in terms of minimizing the risk to their frontline personnel.  

Even our technical teams  and drivers wore bulletproof vests and kevlar helmets.

Looking back at the past decade, the only journalists who wore bulletproof vests were members of the wire agencies or the foreign press.  The rest of us had to rely on sheer determination and plain dumb luck to survive harrowing events like the Lamitan Siege, the assault on Camp Abubakkar and the Cabatangan Hostage taking.

But despite the visible effects of a  safety mindset in our newsrooms, sadly, not all news personnel in Zamboanga were as fortunate.  I still saw tv news teams and phtographers in Sta Catalina crawling about without any safety equipment.  That's not even taking into account members of the local press.

An old colleague who works for a tv station that could well afford protective gear told me his office had just shipped the vests and helmet a few days after they arrived.  They got their equipment a week later, well after the fighting had peaked. In this case, it wasn't even a question of logistics but one of simple common sense and concern for field personnel.

A few enterprising journalists managed to borrow protective gear from friends in the military, which, while admirable, still does not speak well of the prioirties of their news organizations.  

Bulletproof vests and kevlar helmets are not cheap, but then getting shot is a far more costly predicament.

Fellow journalists captured one of the most compelling pictures related to news safety at the height of the fighting in Brgy Sta Catalina.  A group of journalists were using a slow moving armored personnel carrier to shield themselves from bullets coming from the MNLF side.  Some were wearing protective gear, others were not.

Later that week, the same group had an errant grenade land near their positions, wounding a soldier and a Red Cross volunteer.  Incredibly, not one of the journalists were injured in the attack.

But then again, we can only be so lucky, so many times.

Coping

I still see some of the old guards  from the last decade, noticeably older but undiminshed in the dark humor shared among the press covering the high risk environment that is the conflict in Mindanao.

"Eat well boys.  That's why they call it the Last Supper.", one of the veterans jokingly calls out over the chaos of the evening buffet at the Garden Orchid Hotel.

Some of the younger journalists manage nervous grins.  

But jokes are just some of the ways journalist deal with the stress, fear and excitement of conflict coverage. Cigarettes, strong coffee and and more often than not, a whole lot of alcohol help during the long nights celebrating our day to day brushes with death.

As a psychology major and a trainor on news safety, I realize the dark jokes and long drinking sessions help in processing the negative effects of being in the line of fire and witnessing the carnage and atrocities of war.

By simply talking about our experiences in the field, we partially stave off the ill effects of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder or PTSD.  In less severe cases of PTSD, counselling and a whole lot of sharing are the first remedies. That's why the long nights after the coverage remain a ritual most of us follow up to this day.

Most, if not all of us covering the Zamboanga Crisis report a marked dip in our energy levels upon reaching the hotel at the end of the day.  Aside from the obvious toll, the heavy safety equipment exact from our bodies, the sheer amount of adrenaline that carried us through most of the day had simply disappeared from our systems.  Without the adrenaline extending our physical limits, our bodies return to stasis, and cry out for much needed nourishment and rest.

That's why it was such a chore to refocus and prepare mentally for the late night newscasts. More so after each night's proverbial Last Supper.

But once inside the relative safety of our hotel rooms, all else disappear.  It is strictly alone time, where the phones and emails remain unanswered and the calls and video calls back home made.

Critics

And then there is that thing about social media.  Not the personnel mind you, but the myriad praise and critique of the work we painstakingly mine in the frontlines.

First came the disparaging comments on a colleague who had the misfortune of being asked to don his protective gear while doing a live report near the hotel. 

After that, a picture of journalists smiling, with a fire billowing in the background had the netizens abuzz with the alleged insenstivity of journalists covering the conflict.

I myself got flak for writing an article on a captured MNLF sniper.  Many questioned my motivations.

MNLF sympathizers also questioned the media for the alleged one-sided coverage, as most quotes and footage were from the government side.

Now more than ever I realize, in the age of social media, one cannot truly please everyone.

 

Admittedly there were lessons to be learned here, but it was a bitter pill to swallow for journalists who put everything on the line to gather the news.

The wonders of technology

This episode of the conflict in Mindanao was marked by the intense pace in which pictures, video and articles made its way to the internet and our individual news programs.

Tweets from individual journalists came as thick as the bullets raining around the conflicts areas.  

The high definition video cameras on most everyone's cellphones likewise captured personal episodes amid the intense fighting.

And yes, we found a selfie or two to be an irresistable diversion while taking cover.  

Some tv crews had live streaming capabilities, allowing them to update the ongoing firefights at will, much to the glee no doubt, of news executives.  The public was so in the know of what was happening on the ground that the situation became a matter of concern for government forces.

One military official told me that live streaming the events on the ground may have helped the rebels pinpoint the exact positions of government troops.

A few days later, a cordon was placed around the conflict areas in what many saw as strategy rather than an effort to curtail information.

For the moment, little is changed in the early mornings before we set out for places like Sta Barbara, Sta Catalina, Rio Hondo or Talon Talon.

A quick breakfast of the eternal omellete and congee at the breakfast buffet before wishing ourselves luck in the day's coverage.  Some linger a bit for an extra cup of coffee and a quick cigarette.

I see some murmuring prayers at the breakfast table just as someone rushes in, a bit out of breath.

"There's another fire in Sta Barbara" he tells no one in particular.

And so another day begins for journalists in Zamboanga.

Even snipers dream of home.

Covering the crisis in Zamboanga City, journalists had to contend with the large volume of gunfire exchanged daily between government troops and the MNLF fighters.  It has been standard practice among journalists to run full tilt when crossing alleys and streets near the conlfict areas knowing rebel snipers would have a hard time distinguishing a journalist covered in body armor from a soldier or policeman.

So it was with great interest that I followed a lead from a loose tongued policeman about what I thought of then was a tall tale about MNLF snipers having surrendered or captured and being held by the police.

It turns out the story was true. 

I went to a police facility near the areas of conflict and chanced upon a handful of alleged MNLF snipers in the process of being fingerprinted and booked.

Most of the rebels had wounds, ranging from superficial gashes on their arms to oozing bullet wounds on their legs and shoulders. I counted around five men in their late sixties among the arrested MNLF soldiers while the rest were in their late teens and early 20s.

An emaciated looking young man with long, oxide-bleached hair sat on the floor with handcuffs bobbing his head to some song playing through his earphones.

They smelled of sweat and gun powder, their hands blackened, and faces burnt dark brown.

It was then that I saw him.  A giant of a man with long curly hair and huge hands, sat sleeping in a corner of the room.  His head was leaning on a makeshift blackboard where a list of the names of known hostages were written.

His handcuffed hands were swollen from burns and cuts, a patina of soot painting the skin an ashen gray.  His thick fingers, scarred and calloused from use, bore more cuts and bruises.

The camoflauge pants he was wearing had turned a light gray from age and he nursed a wound on his right arm.  His skin, a deep, dark olive brown, glistening from the grime and soot of the days past.  A serene, almost relieved expression was on his face.  After the violence and uncertainty of the past few days, I imagine dreams may be the only safe refuge for men like him.

A police official sidled next to me and whispered with unmasked awe.

"Thats the Sta Catalina sniper", referring to the village where the most intense fighting had been waged since the rebels entered the city.

He must have heard us for the man suddenly opened his eyes and fixed his intense eyes at our direction.  Words can never describe how It felt to be on the receiving end of that burning stare.  His eyes were like coals in the night, smoldering and unflinching with the fire of purpose.  It was a good thing I had my camera.

I was told this man was one of the many MNLF snipers that had prevented soldiers and tanks from making headway into the rebel positions along Lustre St.

For days, the rebel snipers held their positions, on top of buildings and inside attics.  This man did not surrender. He was cornered by government troops simply because he ran out of bullets.

A flicker of recognition crosses the man's face and he breaks into a wide, almost sheepish smile.  It was like watching a chameleon, a killer turning into someone's goofy uncle.

I was convinced I had seen this man before, or him me.  Not in the sense that I was a tv journalist but because we had seen each other before in the far off jungles of Sulu.

"I know you" I tell him.

Incredibly he nods and cracks an even bigger smile.

"Tausug" he answers back.

"Bitanag?" I ask, referring to a trip I made to MNLF Commander Ustadz Habir Malik's old stronghold in Panamao in Sulu.

He nods again.

I try to prod him for more information but the only word he utters is 'Tausug'

One of the questions that had been burning through my mind in the past days of strife and scorched earth was the seeming indifference of the MNLF fighters to the incredible odds stacked against them.  Government troop estimates number around 5000 in the conflict area while intelligence reports peg rebel numbers at around 180 armed men.

The devastation and loss of life caused by the MNLF assault is unforgivable, whatever motive and belief behind it. But one cannot be faulted for feeling a sense of awe at the determination of this men.

What was this blind loyalty and belief that drove former fishermen, farmers and ordinary folk to follow the man they call commander Malik to the very gates of hell?

I get my answers from a nineteen year old sniper named Udab from Talipao, Sulu who was also among the arrested.

He tells me they were promised ten thousand pesos to attend the planned MNLF flag raising at the Zamboanga City hall.  Most of them did not have guns when they came to Zamboanga.  On Monday, just before the planned march, they were issued firearms somewhere in Brgy Sta Barabara.

The military had been circulating news about the death of Commander Malik perhaps in an effort to dampen the morale of the remaining MNLF fighters.  But Udab shakes his head when I try to confirm the death of the senior MNLF commander. he tells me he last saw Malik, Friday night.

"It is God's will that he is alive. Bullets cannot harm him"

I leave the snipers to their fate. But before I leave, I am compelled to take one last look at the Sta Catalina sniper.

He is still sleeping, the same contented, peaceful look marking his slumber.  It must be the first real sleep he has had in the last few days.  Whatever fate awaited him in the secret places reserved for dangerous men like him he seems to have already accepted. Perhaps he was dreaming of his home in far away Sulu or simply content that despite his capture his family honor is intact and his place in heaven secure, for having fought to the very end.

Ban the gun?

I used to think guns were accessories of excess and compensating mechanisms for the genetically challenged. Having grown up in the gun loving and macho world of sugarcane planters, I've seen family and friends display the latest pistols and rifles all the time. It wasn't a big deal. It was like having a new car and showing it off to friends.

I remember my dad asking a friend why he always carried the latest M-16 assault rifle and a few pistols for good measure. We were on vacation then in a rest house north of Bacolod City. The friend thought it prudent to lend my dad his assault rifle for protection during our stay. His reply echoed the argument most if not all planters use when justifying their considerable collection of guns: For protection. Against what? My dad queried. Well against the communist insurgents and bandits known to roam the area. I don't recall if dad accepted his offer. What I do remember is ogling the spread of guns that had been laid on a bed and the same friend urging my dad to make sure the kids know how to shoot and handle guns when they grow up.

Call me decadent. Call me stupid or naive. But you can never call me dishonest when I say my heart skipped a beat when I was handed the heavy Colt carbine to see how much it weighed. Whether it was juvenile fascination for all things dangerous or real interest in the weapons of death, I could not tell.

On circumspect a real assault by a band of rebels or a handful of determined thugs would have rendered that small arsenal useless. But I guess back then, and even up to the present, winning a shoot out with rebels or criminals was not the point. The weapons gave men a choice over uncertainty: to lay down quietly or to sell your life and dignity as dearly as possible to those who had no qualms of visiting their evil upon you and your family.

Of course there were also harrowing tales of gun toting parents barging into the school grounds to confront teachers that had allegedly mistreated their children. Or a handful of rich punks brandishing automatic weapons at fellow students during the inevitable youthful altercations. Here and there one hears of the mentally unstable uncle of some classmate shoot his brains out or vent his ire (and bullets) on hapless bystanders. And then there were the close calls or accidents at home or at the range where a curious child picked up his dad's pistol or a gun going off nearly killing someone.

Guns made all these past incidents possible. But it took the will, omission or conscious decision of men to make it real.

The recent massacre in Cavite that left at least ten dead, many of them children, is merely one of the many recent incidents that has once again pitted the old arguments on gun control against each other.

Those espousing the total ban on civilians owning guns argue incidents like these will be lessened to a great extent if law enforcement personnel are the only ones allowed to carry firearms. The argument goes something like this: If civilians are not allowed to own guns, there will be a lesser chance civilians will intentionally or accidentally kill someone. Gun ownership is not necessary since the government assures its citizenry of quick response to crime especially crimes of violence against persons.

Those seeking to ban guns will oftentimes Australia and Singapore as shining examples of how the system works.

Yes, incidents of gun related crimes in these countries have gone down. Yes there are less deaths associated with or involving firearms in these countries.

The gun advocates say the inability of the government to secure life and property of its citizens make civilian gun ownership a neccesity. Most people don't need fancy statistics to prove that there aren't enough police to effectively secure our neighborhoods much less discuss their attitude or motivation (or lack thereof) to thwart break ins and petty crimes. For majority of gun owners protection is the major motivation to purchase and own firearms.

Again the familiar mantra goes: If we outlaw guns, only outlaws will have guns.

While this statement is quite general and not entirely true, neither is it completely false.

A foreign small-arms monitoring group based in Switzerland has pegged the number of loose firearms in the country at over 500 thousand. These are firearms that have never been registered and therefore untraceable. And not surprisingly since these guns are beyond the reach of ballistic investigations and forensics, the weapons of choice of criminals and armed insurgents.

The PNP Firearms and Explosives Office say this figure is a gross over estimation. That is also true. There is simply no empirical data to base these claims. But neither is there evidence that these loose guns do no exist in the aforesaid quantities.

On the brighter side, the PNP is starting to computerize the ballistic record of each legally sold firearms in the country. So technically all crimes or incidents involving these guns can theoretically be traced to a specific gun.

The sad truth however is that most of the crimes committed using guns involve the untraceable loose firearms.

So what we have in reality is a sort of Catch 22. We have inadequate law enforcement and a whole plethora of untraceable guns in the country. For some, this is enough reason to purchase a gun as a final option.

Who should own guns.

Ownership of firearms is guaranteed by law. A whole battery of requirements accompany each individual firearm license application. Aside from clearances from various government agencies there a prospective gun owner must also pass a battery of psychological tests.

The PNP argues that the requirements alone should serve as an efficient method to determine who should own guns.

I hear a distant wail in the background coming from the anti-gun people.

No seriously, I agree with you. People who have no business owning guns are out there oiling and fawning over their bestiary of death.

The process by no means guarantee legally purchased guns will never be involved in crimes or accidents. There are simply too many factors involved.

Firstly, the gun licensing process is a sham. No really it is.

I remember going to a gun show and looking over some 45 caliber pistols when a salesman sidled next to me and offered to have the gun ready to take him in as little as two weeks time. He told me I didn't even have to apply for any clearance or show up for the neuro-psychiatric examination.

That guy could have been talking to a serial killer and would not have known any better.

And one doesn't have to be in the same league as Charles Mason to inflict harm on others. There are instances of perfectly sane, responsible and God-fearing individuals who have whipped out their guns and used them in traffic altercations, misunderstandings and heated arguments.

Even police and military personnel have been known to use guns on others for the same reasons.

On the opposite side of the spectrum, any criminal can get his hands on a gun. There are after all over half a million loose firearms floating and being traded about under the radar.

Hell even our old farm foreman had a 45 caliber automatic stashed inside a bag of rice.

It is a matter of choice.


Both gun advocates and those opposing their views have valid points. I cannot in all honesty say one argument outweighs the other.

You can own a gun should you wish to. What you do with it is really up to you.

I respect the arguments offered by those calling for the total gun ban. In my profession as a journalist I have seen the tragedy and unnecessary loss of life because of guns. Banning guns may actually lower incidence of crimes and incidents involving firearms as the experience of some countries have shown.

Everyone has a story to tell about abusive gun owners who bandy their weapons about to intimidate other people. We don't need Sandy Hook to remind us how things can go terribly wrong when people decide to use firearms.

But I have also seen how guns were used to protect life and property from the evils of men.

So which side of the fence am I on one may ask?

Let's just put it this way. I acknowledge the fact that guns are weapons of death and destruction. These things were built to kill people swiftly and efficiently.

It is a tool much like a knife or a car. With the proper motivation, it can and have been used to kill people. While it is true these three things have different functions in the first place entirely misses the point.

If unnecessary and unwanted death is the main issue why people want to ban guns, then why arent these same people railing against drunk driving or the flawed transport industry licensing processes? It is a a fact that road traffic accidents kill more people each year than guns, disease and other accidents combined.

The reason why people want to ban guns is that it gives power of life and death in the hands of some men who are not fit to own them. In the same vein this argument says that guns make it possible for law-abiding, perfectly sane individuals to unintentionally kill someone in the midst of heated argument.

That these same people can use knives, a tire wrench, their hands or their cars to visit their evil upon each other, while perfectly true, dosen't seem to be a point of consideration for anti gun advocates.

I am no gun lover. I didnt play cops and robbers when I was growing up and I don't own a small arsenal in my home. I hate people with guns who swagger about town with guns hidden in their cars or trailing a troop of armed thugs masquerading as bodyguards. But I do recognize the right of individuals to carry guns to protect themselves and those they love.

Personally I'd rather own a gun and contend with the hazards and consequences of ownership than come to a point of desperately needing but not having one.

Lets not even discuss gun safety seminars or the proper handling of firearms. These are givens for anyone seeking to responsibly own guns. There are unalterable risks when you have a gun in your posession. Like driving a car, it is up to to you to minimize these risks as the very nature of guns make these dangers unavoidable.

Until there is a guarranteed government solution to the masked man in your living room in the dead of the night, the armed group of men trying to bring down your bedroom door or the unwanted stranger creeping into your daughter's bedroom I shall and will always choose to have that final option.